Thanks to everyone who read and to Scififan33 and 1983Sarah for reviewing.


It was weird, but Roddy sort of remembered this from before. Back when Mom hadn't come home. He'd been younger then, obviously, and Dad had been there with him, but it was the same numbness, the same inability to make his mind focus.

Or at least the same inability to make his mind focus on anything that actually mattered. The fact that he'd just remembered something that he'd meant to put in his book report was pretty fucking irrelevant right now.

Dad was still in surgery, and the person at the desk who'd talked to them when they arrived hadn't sounded very encouraging.

"Hey."

He looked up as Detective Grimm tapped his arm with something warm and then frowned as he was handed cup of something dark. His control wasn't anywhere near what it should be, though, and when he felt himself woge unintentionally he ducked his head rather than catch sight of those eyes. He was more grateful for Detective Grimm's presence than he cared to admit since there was no way that he was in any shape to deal with any of this by himself and it wasn't like he had anyone he could call, but that was a little more than he could deal with right now.

Of course, so was the fact that even woged he couldn't tell whether the drink Detective Grimm had given him was coffee or hot chocolate, and there was no way in hell that he was going to take a sip to find out. He was pretty sure that anything that he put in his stomach would come right back up anyway.

Detective Grimm didn't seem to take offense at his disinterest, at least, sitting down beside him again with a pat to his shoulder.

Roddy wasn't sure how long he sat there staring downwards and contemplating the mystery liquid before the double doors opened again and a woman in a white coat came out, looking around at the half-dozen people scattered around the room. "Geiger?"

"Yes?" Roddy asked, and Detective Grimm somehow managed to grab the cup before Roddy dropped it in his haste to get to his feet.

She hesitated. "I'm afraid I'll need to speak to someone eighteen or old—"

"I am eighteen," Roddy interrupted impatiently. At some point he was going to run out of patience and get his birth date tattooed on his fucking forehead.

"Ah. Would you come with me please?"

"Are we going to see my dad?"

He didn't like the flash of whatever that flickered across her face, and Detective Grimm must have seen it too because an arm came around his shoulders and squeezed tightly.


Roddy sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He was at Monroe's obviously, the ticking gave that away even faster than the Blutbad markers which was actually kind of impressive, but why—

Everything came back to him in a rush, and he clapped a hand over his mouth and shoved himself up off the couch, bolting for the bathroom. He'd hadn't eaten in a while so the experience was mostly just painful, but by the time he was done rinsing out his mouth Monroe was waiting for him.

"Hey, kid. How are you doing?"

The sympathy in his voice said that he already had a good idea, and Roddy shook his head. He was teetering between numbness and something a whole lot worse, and he had a bad feeling that when the numbness faded he wasn't going to be good for anything except curling up in a ball and crying. Maybe forever.

The first lady at the hospital hadn't been a doctor or a nurse or anything like that, she'd been some kind of counselor person, but when she'd taken Roddy and Detective Grimm to a small side room there had been a doctor there to confirm what Roddy had feared. And then the doctor had left again, and the other lady had asked a whole bunch of questions that he hadn't had the first idea how to answer, and Detective Grimm had finally stopped her and made her give him a card and a paper listing the things that were supposed to happen next. Which was a thing hospitals had, apparently. Roddy hadn't known that before, but it kind of made sense.

Detective Grimm had had to leave for work not too long after that, though, because he and Roddy had somehow been at the hospital all night, and while he'd offered to drop Roddy off at one of his relatives' places on the way, Roddy didn't like seeing them even when things were good. They were anything but right now. But since Detective Grimm hadn't been willing to leave him at home alone, they'd compromised on Monroe's.

Monroe sighed and put an arm around his shoulders, leading him back over to the couch. "Can you tell me what happened? Nick...all I understood was that your dad was in some kind of accident."

Roddy nodded, keeping his eyes on his hands. "Dad's been working with his brothers on a job down south for the last couple weeks. Uncle Joseph has a demolition company that does work up and down the coast, and he helps out sometimes when he doesn't have much on the schedule and they need extra hands. They were all supposed to drive back up together tomorrow, but for some reason Dad left the site early—they probably had a fight; that happens a lot too—and got on the bus instead. Except then the bus was in some kind of accident." He looked up. "Buses aren't supposed to be in accidents. They don't even have seat belts."

Monroe sighed and tightened his arm a little.

"Dad and a couple other people were hurt...pretty bad...and they took them to the hospital, and when the police were calling around trying to find everyone's families I guess the sergeant on duty remembered me—us—from before and called Detective Grimm. Dad...he was in surgery..." He shook his head as his throat closed again, tightening his hands into fists hard enough that nails and then claws bit into his palms. Maybe he shouldn't be, but he was glad that the pain gave him something else to focus on.

"Hey. Easy," Monroe said, gently forcing his hands open again. "That's not going to do anyone any good. Have you talked to your uncles? Or any of the rest of your family? It was still pretty early when Nick dropped you off. Early even for Nick, which is saying something."

"Not yet," Roddy said with a quick shake of his head. "They don't...they don't like me very much. I don't like them either." He was not looking forward to making those phone calls.

"I'm guessing talking to them in person wouldn't make it any better, then."

It wasn't a question, but Roddy shook his head again anyway. "Nothing ever gets better when we see each other. The telephone is...I'll just do that."

"All right. Do you want to do that now? You can use my phone if you want. Or are there other things you'd rather—" He broke off abruptly. "Well, that you need to do first?" A pause. "I could heat up some bagels or something if you want some breakfast."

Roddy's stomach rolled. "I'm not hungry. But the lady from the hospital gave me a list. And a copy of the..." He swallowed hard and shook his head. He knew full well that it was called a death certificate, but he couldn't make himself say the words out loud. Which was another good reason to put off notifying any relatives, at least for a little while longer. "I guess I should look at that first."

"Okay, that might be a good start," Monroe agreed. "I'm guessing those are the papers that Nick left on the table."

Roddy didn't remember Nick having them at any point, but then again they clearly weren't here, and he didn't remember much after leaving the hospital anyway. "Maybe. And I know some stuff is already done. After Mom died he got...he got two places at the cemetery. Some other stuff too, I think, but that's all back in the desk at home."

Monroe nodded. "I can give you a ride home if that's what you want, but would you like some help tracking stuff down? Rosalee ended up back in town because her brother died, so I'm more up to date than I would be otherwise on funeral arrangements."